Unforgiven
by sybill tres-looney
Summary: What if Ron was never able to rejoin Harry and Hermione after he left during the search for the Horcruxes? What if he left Hermione with more than just a heartache?
1. Chapter 1

**UNFORGIVEN**

A/N: not abandoning menat, just hard editing 6-7 chapters, going back and forth. Hope u'll indulge me tho for uploading the other fanfics ive already started writing. Please. :)

oooops. reedited. failed to make myself clear. h/g have never been together in this fic.

**Chapter One**

Harry stood up at once at the sight of Elphias Doge as the doors to the room opened. He had been pacing around like crazy in the parlor room of the house. It was the only place he could think of to bring Hermione and the rest of the Malfoy Mansion hostages. It was a good thing that at Bill's wedding, Doge had offered Harry come to him, should he need help, and gave him the address.

At first, he didn't realize the extent of Hermione's injuries. But when she failed to turn up at Dobby's burial, he began to worry. He had first-hand experience with the Cruciatus curse, and knew its effects. He tried to search his memory if Bellatrix Lestrange cast another curse, far deadlier, on her, but all he remembered was the Cruciatus. He asked Luna and Dean, and both said the same thing. It seemed it had affected her far worse than normal. It had been hours and he had been anxiously waiting for word of her condition.

"How is she?" Harry asked anxiously.

Doge however held a hand up for Harry to remain quiet. He turned around and closed the doors behind him before turning back around and walking to Harry, stopping right in front of him.

"Miss Granger is safe," he said.

Harry was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Doge spoke again.

"And so is the baby," Doge added, with a hint of disapproval in his voice.

It took a while for the word to sink into Harry's brain. For a moment, it seemed he had forgotten what the word "baby" meant.

"Baby?" Harry asked, completely dumbfounded.

"The _baby_ Ms. Granger is carrying," Doge said gruffly. "We can only thank her quick-thinking and intelligence to cast the spells on herself that would protect her baby before you were taken by the Snatchers. Still, an hour more and it would have been too late – for both of them." Doge noted the dumbstruck look on Harry's face. "I take it you don't even know that she's pregnant?" Harry could only shake his head dumbly. He was unable to form a single coherent thought.

Doge eyed him reprovingly. "Mr. Potter, whatever were _you_ thinking? This is no time at all for you to be having children! Don't you know people are risking their lives to support you? And you go around playing house…."

"But I – I –" But Harry didn't know what he was, or what he was supposed to have done. _Hermione's pregnant_? And then the image of Bellatrix Lestrange sticking a knife in Hermione's throat, the drop of blood forming on her neck, rose into his mind. Hermione's screams as Lestrange tortured her with the Cruciatus curse resounded in his head, sharper and more jarringly with this thunderbolt of a knowledge thrown at him. _Hermione!_ Harry suddenly felt the need to see her at once, make sure for himself that she…and the baby… were alright, though he had no idea exactly how to do that.

"I am deeply, deeply disappointed in you, young man. And Dumbledore said you're a good lad – " Doge was saying, but Harry was no longer aware of it. His feet turned towards the door, then he rushed to the bedroom where he knew Hermione was brought in.

He found her, eyes closed, a hand gently lying on her stomach. Doge's house-elf, standing nearby, eyed Harry with the same disapproving glance as her master had given him. But Harry ignored it and waited for her to leave the room. Then he walked towards the side of the bed where an empty chair stood. He sat down carefully, trying not to make a noise.

He watched Hermione's face, guilt rising up his stomach. There were beads of cold sweat still on her forehead and her lips were dry and cracked. She was extremely pale, and now he realized she had been looking like that for the past several months now. How could he not have noticed? Though he dimly remembered Doge saying the baby was alright, fear still gripped him. When he and Hermione were battling Nagini and ran away from Voldemort, she was already pregnant.

She must have felt his eyes on her, because soon enough Hermione opened her eyes. She looked blearily up at him.

"The baby…the baby…" she said. Her voice was very weak.

"The baby is safe," said Harry gently. "You musn't talk, Hermione. You have to get your strength back."

Hermione smiled weakly. "It's not _his_ fault," she said.

Harry closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to quell the rush of anger that suddenly seized him. He was in no mood to talk about it now. But when he opened his eyes, Hermione was sleeping again. She only had strength enough to ask about the baby and defend its father.

Thereafter, Harry and Luna took turns watching over her. Thankfully, Doge kept quiet about Hermione's pregnancy and presumably ordered his two house-elves not to say anything to Luna and the others. Casting the protection spells on her baby had taken quite a toll on Hermione though, making her much more vulnerable to the Cruciatus Curse. It took her a week before she woke up again. He and Hermione didn't have much chance to speak after that, for they were never alone. Harry always made sure that there was always someone else in the room whenever he came to visit her.

As soon as she was well enough, Harry then spent most of his time outside the house. Ostensibly, he was making sure the Death Eaters were not casing the estate, even though it was under the Fidelius Charm, but really, he was just trying to avoid the other occupants of the house – particularly Hermione.

Doge's house stood on top of a hill overlooking rolling lands and green fields. Harry soaked in the peaceful view, sitting on a stone outcrop. This high up in the area, there was a cold bite to the wind and he huddled into himself, hugging the mug of tea in his hand.

He was angry with himself, regretting that he did not know enough to do this job. He should have prepared himself more, studied harder, so he didn't have to rely on anyone. It was not as if he did not know that, eventually, he would have to face Voldemort.

He was angry too at his best friends. Didn't they know that they were fighting, not just for their own lives, but for the rest of the country as well? Good for them that they still found the time to make a baby while he, Harry, couldn't allow himself to be with anyone or even _want_ anyone. Since the night he heard the prophecy in Dumbledore's office, he did nothing but prepare himself for his eventual confrontation with Voldemort. He had to steel himself from the loneliness and jealousy he felt when seeing other boys of his age able to date freely. Girls are a distraction that led to an early grave - for himself and others. Still, no matter how angry he was with Hermione, how could he possibly lash at her in her condition and after her recent ordeal?

He contemplated the last days. How he had no choice but to run after the Horcrux in Gringotts now. He thought that given a chance, he would always choose the Horcrux, and let Voldemort have the Elder Wand. But how would he know? Perhaps he was just making sweet lemons of the entire thing.

He took a huge sip from his mug and gulped down the bland tea. Then he felt someone approaching and glanced back – Hermione was walking towards him, wrapped from head to foot in a thick woolen blanket. Harry turned his attention back to the fields. Hermione sat tentatively beside him, wriggling to arrange the blanket round her more comfortably. Harry, all this while, was a wall of silence. It took Hermione sometime to draw enough courage to say anything.

"Why haven't you been coming to see me?"

Harry kept silent, his jaw muscles working. He replenished his mug with hot water, and took another sip.

"Are you mad because Doge thinks you're the baby's father?"

Harry gave her an annoyed look. It was the least of their problems. He angrily flicked the remaining contents of his cup to the ground and then Vanished the mug. He then stood up and turned to face her fully, looking at her steadily. Hermione shifted nervously under her blanket.

"How long have you known?" said Harry quietly.

"As soon as _he_ left. I suspected it might happen, given the dates*. And… we failed to use protection…"

Harry grimaced. Too much information.

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to. It just happened," Hermione cried hurriedly.

"Don't give me that crap, Hermione. Nothing 'just happens'. Stubbing your toe on a pebble, that just happens. A car accident, that just happens. Making a baby? That doesn't just happen, Hermione. I was always within hearing distance of the two of you."

"I'm sorry, alright! I said I'm sorry! It's not like I wanted things to end up like this. But R–, I mean, _he _was having a hard time with the Horcrux and all. And I was just trying to comfort him, and I don't know, one thing led to another and –"

"Hermione! What were you thinking?" Harry immediately cut her off, not wanting any more details. "Voldemort is after us! He's after you! Now that the Death Eaters know you're with me…" Harry cried, throwing his arms in frustration.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Harry rubbed down his face. He kicked a stone at his feet quite forcefully. "God, Hermione! You know I can't do this alone. As much as I hate to admit it, I need you. But how am I supposed to hunt for the Horcruxes alone now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know I can't allow you to come with me anymore. I'd have to search for the remaining Horcruxes by myself."

"You can't!"

"I know I can't! But I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Harry – "

"You have to stay here, but not for long. Every suspected member of the Order is being watched. You can stay with the Weasleys, if you want. They'll be able to protect you more."

Hermione wasn't enthusiastic about the idea. She and Ron were not exactly in the best of terms at the moment. And what would the Weasleys say if they found out that both she and Ron walked out on Harry? Mrs. Weasley would never speak to her again. And she wasn't too fond either of the thought of herself running around the Burrow with huge bat-bogeys flying out of her nose.

Harry was watching her expression. He looked away, sighing exasperatedly. "Perhaps I can ask Kingsley or some other Order member to get you out of the country quickly, maybe join your parents in Australia."

"Harry, you don't mean that!"

Harry turned to her angrily. "How can I bring you with me, Hermione? Tell me how?"

"Do you think I would be safer if you leave me behind now? You yourself said that the Death Eaters already know that I'm with you. If they hear so much as a whisper of my whereabouts, they'd surely come after me straight as they would come after you, even if it's as far away as Australia. Our safest bet is if we stay together."

"Hermione, you almost died! Just now! You and the baby!"

Hermione looked frantically around, making sure there was no one around. Belatedly, she cast the _Muffliato_ spell around them. Then she turned back to Harry, trying to reason with him. "Harry, if they find me without you, how long do you think they'll keep me alive?" she asked. "If you leave me behind now, it's the same as you casting the Killing Curse on me yourself."

Harry threw her an angry look. "Don't guilt me into bringing you with me, Hermione. I already have too many deaths on my head."

"Then don't add mine to that list, Harry. You need me," she said, tears on the verge of falling from her eyes. "And my baby and I need you," she added, looking up at him through her wet lashes.

"That's a low blow, Hermione, and you know it," he said coldly. He turned his back to her and stalked back into the house. "I hate Ron," he shouted as he walked away.

Hermione though only felt enormous relief: She knew she had won the argument.

~o~

The Great Hall stood ringing in stunned silence. Harry looked down at Voldemort's lifeless body. It was finally over. He turned to the room, at the spectators, but his eyes only searched for Hermione. The others, still too stunned at what had happened, at how swiftly the war ended when just minutes ago, their situation seemed desperate, held back. His classmates, the Order members, and certainly the Weasleys had been picking up a weird vibe from him. He was different, somehow. He seemed distant and talked only to a few people – Remus, Kingsley, Professor McGonagall, but the Weasleys he kept at a distance, not even glancing his best mate Ron's way. It was apparent the two had a falling out.

Of all the people in the room, Hermione alone ran towards him, both her arms outstretched. Harry embraced her wearily, extreme fatigue threatening to overwhelm him. Then he pulled back, looking into her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, but they both knew what he was really asking about.

"It's fine. It's safe. We're both okay."

Harry wasn't satisfied though. They needed to find a Healer and find a Healer fast. They'd been running around England for several months now. How many times had she been hurt, and she hadn't seen a midwife once? Hermione was intelligent, but she was no Healer, and she couldn't very well self-diagnose, could she? They had to make sure the baby was safe. The words of an elderly wizard and his house-elves did not count.

Harry conjured a travelling cloak and put it over Hermione's shoulder, pulling up the cowl over her head. The people in the Great Hall were watching them both, noting the intimacy. Harry gently took Hermione's hand. "Let's go," he said.

Ron was watching all these. And though he seethed with jealousy, he mastered himself. "Harry, wait!" he shouted and ran towards the two standing in the middle of the Great Hall. Harry ignored him. "I said wait!" said Ron.

Harry kept on walking, but Hermione tugged his hand back. He obeyed its silent wish. _Okay then, let's hear what he's got to say_, Harry thought to himself. He waited a beat for Ron to make his case, still not looking at his best mate. He was too angry to say anything. He could hardly bring himself to look at Ron, let alone talk to him.

"I'm sorry!" Ron blurted. "I didn't mean to walk out on you like that. I'm sorry!" But he had never been good with apologies. And didn't Harry always forgive him? Even without him uttering a single word?

Thus Harry waited. But a long silence ensued: Ron seemed to have lost his verbal steam.

_That's it?_ If the idea of Remus running out of his pregnant wife was abhorrent to Harry, the fact that a pregnant Hermione had to risk both her and her unborn baby's lives searching for the Horcruxes, directly in the path of death, was unforgiveable to him. The memory of the times Hermione had been put in danger in the last months came to him again, including being thrown about by Nagini and almost being consumed alive by fiendfyre. And then came other memories – of Dumbledore being thrown off the Astronomy Tower, of Sirius falling into the Veil, of his dad dropping like a stringless marionette to buy his mum and him time to escape – and his anger flared up anew with fierce vengeance. He blamed Ron completely, that he was forced to bring a pregnant Hermione with him, to save his life as much as to save hers, for Ron being such an insecure, sorry excuse for a human being.** He now realized that Ron did not deserve Hermione, that she would be better off with someone else. In his anger, Harry's grip tightened on Hermione's hand. She made an involuntary start. Harry glanced back at her. She looked afraid, a few strands of her bushy hair spilling out of her hood. He turned back to her and tried to reassure her by gently tucking the wayward strands under the hood of her cloak.

"Harry –" she whispered quietly, pleading with her eyes at him under her cowl. Her face was completely hidden from the rest of the people watching them.

But Harry's anger could not be appeased. He ignored the silent plea. "Are you ready?" he asked instead. He took her hand again and started to pull her out of the Great Hall.

"Wait!" cried Ron hurriedly. "Where are you taking her?"

The two stopped and turned back to him again. But then Ron's eyes landed on Harry's hand, still holding Hermione's. Seeing the closeness between the two, Ron felt suddenly unsure of himself. Did he just imagine Hermione's feelings for him? What if she hated him now? He didn't know how to go about setting things to rights. But he wanted more than anything to stake his claim on her. In desperation, he cried out the only thing he could think of, the one hope he clung to all these months: "She loves _me_! It's me Hermione loves. Not you!"

He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. He watched Harry as his best mate slowly turned to him, looking at him for the first time since he arrived at Hogwarts that night. He was taken aback at the look Harry gave him. He never thought that he would see such an expression of deep loathing on Harry's face directed solely at him.

"And _that_ is her misfortune," Harry said, his voice wintry with cold derision. Then Harry pulled Hermione again, leading her decisively out of the Great Hall.

It would not be until three and a half years later that Harry, Hermione, and the _rest_ of her family would be back in England again.

~o~

*Hermione was referring to her menstrual period. Lol. Sorry.

** Harry is very angry. ;D

A/N: about the recurring theme of Harry leaving UK and returning some years later in this and my other fanfics. (Yeah, there's one other coming. XD) It's just im not very comfortable with a 17-16 y/o H/G falling deeply in love. I feel that give the two 6 months to a year, and H/G would inevitably fall for each other. But I feel that the attraction would be mostly physical – G is supposed to be this passionate, red-headed, beautiful girl in love with Harry. And Harry, well, Harry is a young man. And sometimes, for a guy, there's no other impetus for attraction other than having a Y chromosome. XD. so of course, there's not much of a story in that, hence the enforced separations. But the similarities would end there – I hope.

(This note will be posted also on my profile page so I won't have to write it again. If a fic shows harry having been gone 3 years, u know the reason. ;D)


	2. Chapter 2

**UNFORGIVEN**

Chapter Two

Harry opened the pub's door and walked into the dimly lit restaurant. Still he did not remove the scarf wrapped around his neck and face that protected him from the sand grits from the vast Saharan desert. He was not trying to keep a low profile or even hide his identity. He hadn't even cast any glamour charms on himself as he had been doing in the last two years since he began traveling all over the world. He could. But the Gringotts goblins were running the security in Egypt along with the Magical government. He did not want to cause an international incident if he ever was discovered lurking along the country's borders. Better they knew he was here, out in the open. In fact, a Gringotts goblin had already approached him the very day he arrived asking what he was doing in Egypt. But Harry was not compelled by law to divulge the reason why he was here. His business was entirely his own.

It was the movement that caught his eye. A man in a darkened and far corner of the pub had lowered his hood. Even in the pub's dim light, Harry immediately recognized Bill Weasley. Harry did not lower his guard though. In the wizarding world, one cannot trust to appearances.

But neither was he all that surprised. He had already allowed the possibility that he might run into the Curse-Breaker. He had been in Egypt for three days now, undisguised. Word was bound to spread.

Bill raised a hand in a friendly wave. Harry accepted the silent invitation and navigated his way towards the table. Bill stood up as Harry came near and offered his hand in greeting. Harry took it, still wary.

"How are you, Harry?" Bill asked, the question more than a polite greeting. He was genuinely concerned about Harry who was very thin and looked even more strained than Bill had last seen him, as if the end of the war had not brought Harry any respite or peace of mind.

Harry made a slight jerk of his head, which to Bill was no answer at all. For a few awkward moments they just stood there, each waiting for the other to speak. But it was Bill who called Harry over. So he gestured towards the chairs for the two of them to sit down. Harry took a seat, choosing one that kept his back to the wall and gave him a full view of the rest of the inn.

Bill watched Harry uncertainly, unsure of how to proceed. The truth was, the young man sitting in front of him was a complete stranger. He was not the Harry he remembered. That Harry was kind and open. The young man in front of him was an impervious dam of silence. Harry then pointedly looked at the watch on his wrist. Bill saw it wasn't the watch his parents had given Harry for his seventeenth. He sighed and shook his head sadly.

"Have you become like this now, Harry?" When it looked like Harry would not reply, Bill continued. "What happened, Harry?" he asked. "Between you and Ron?"

Harry's eyes flashed quickly with anger. "Did you come all the way to Egypt to ask me that? Why are you really here, Bill?" he demanded.

"We're worried. About you and Hermione."

"_You're_ worried? Did your brother send you here?"

"My brother has a name. You should know. You used to be best mates." It was the wrong thing to say; Harry retreated back into his shield of silence. Bill sighed. "Where's Hermione, Harry? We haven't heard anything about her lately. You, yes – the few times you've allowed yourself to be seen. Like now. But nothing about Hermione. I've tried asking around, but she seems to have vanished from the face of the earth."

Harry twitched for just the tiniest bit before he answered. "Hermione's fine. She's doing alright," Harry said in a forbidding tone. It was clear that the topic of Hermione was off-limits.

Bill sighed. "Why did you cut us off, Harry?" he asked in a weary voice. "I know my own brother. I know Ron can be a git sometimes, but is that reason enough for you to turn your back on the rest of the family? We loved you. We considered you as one of our own. We stuck by you when it wasn't just unpopular, but dangerous as well." Bill knew he was laying it on thick, but it was the only thing he could think of that would get through Harry's shield. And he was doubly ashamed to see the guilt cross Harry's face. However, Harry only allowed the emotion to show briefly before shuttering it quickly behind his mask.

"I know what your family has done for me," Harry said. "I am perfectly aware of that. And I am grateful. But now is not the time to talk about what happened." Then he stood up abruptly, as if he had just remembered something important. "I'm sorry, Bill. If you have nothing more to say, I have to go." He then turned his back on Bill and walked away, heading straight to the room he was renting upstairs.

"Where's Hermione, Harry?" Bill shouted after him. But Harry did not or would not look back.

~o~

Harry watched as Hermione frantically tried to cram in as many of the book collection she and her parents had accumulated in the short amount of time they had been living in Australia. Rosie sat on his lap, leaning back into him as she suckled a thumb.

Harry absolutely refused to bring with him some of the heavy furniture Hermione's parents insisted on bringing with them back to England. They were going to travel light. Carol and Stuart Granger hadn't even seen the house in Oxfordshire Harry had arranged for them to buy, just the pictures. He was no expert, but it just might be that the Grangers' highly contemporary Australian furniture might not go well with the new house. In fact, Harry refused to even lift a finger helping Hermione pack, content to watch her as he and Rosie shared the (very) comfortable leather chair he'd grown quite fond of. Sadly, it was one of the things they would have to leave behind as well.

"You know, Hermione, it's only now that I realize that bookwormism is a disease."

Hermione threw him an irritated glance. "That's not even a word."

"It's not? Well, it should be. You and your parents are seriously afflicted with it." Harry turned to Rose. "Rosie, you're not growing up to be like them, are you? You'll never get married."

Rosie somehow knew her Uncle Harry was just teasing her, for she merely looked up at him and smiled adoringly. Then she leaned her head back on Harry's chest and went back to sucking her thumb.

"Careful what you say to her!" Hermione cried. "You know she absorbs everything!" She gave her daughter a disgruntled look. "Rosie, stop sucking your thumb!" She went back to stuffing the books in their respective bags. "I swear, she thinks everything that comes out of your mouth is the gospel truth," she grumbled, throwing Harry a dirty look. "Oh, I can't wait for her to grow up and be disabused of that thought."

Harry only grinned back at her, enjoying watching her panicked packing. He had already told her to just chuck everything into her own bag and worry about sorting them out later once they were back in England, but noooo, she insisted on separating her parents' books from hers when they were all set to leave in the morning. Harry suspected that she was just using it as an excuse to not have to think about tomorrow and their impending return to England.

Hermione lifted her head to see the smirk on Harry's face. "Aren't you going to help me at all?!" she demanded.

"Nope. Na uh." Harry shook his head. "Not gonna do no work with this tired body of mine." Rose turned her face back up to Harry, and silently worded "not gonna do no work" as if memorizing it. Thankfully, Hermione's attention was still in her packing. Harry winked back at Rose.

"Tired, my foot! You're just a lazy bum."

"Lazy bum," repeated Rose, aloud. Hermione immediately regretted her outburst while Harry laughed.

It was then that the doorbell rang. Harry turned to Hermione. "Were you expecting any guests?" Hermione shook her head. Harry frowned. Only a handful of people knew where the Grangers were living. And though they were living in a Muggle house, Harry had cast numerous protection and security spells on it. Nobody would be able to find the house unless he, Hermione, or her parents gave the person the address – but always with his prior clearance. And even if a person had been told, they couldn't just come in unannounced – only in emergency cases could anybody override the wards or if they had been specifically invited by himself or Hermione.

Harry stood up with Rose still in his arms. He walked over to Hermione and handed over Rose to her. Then he strode to the front door and opened it.

A Muggle guy stood in front of the door. Whatever the guy was expecting, it was clearly not another young man. For a moment he stood there, looking at Harry uncertainly, then he leaned his head back and checked the house number plate on the side of the door. Apparently, it told him he was in the right place. He turned back to Harry. "Uhm, is this where Emma Watson lives?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes," said Harry, greatly amused. When Hermione and her parents got reunited after the war, they all took in new identities. But that wasn't what was making him smile. The Muggle was very tall – taller than he was, in fact. He also had clear blue eyes and vivid red hair – as vividly red as the Weasleys'.

"Harry, who is it?" Hermione's nervous voice called out from behind him. She was still carrying Rose, her face tense.

Harry turned back to her, giving her a look that said: _You're busted_! He then opened the door wider so Hermione could see who was at the door.

"Shaun!" she squeaked.

"Hi," said Shaun, still casting uncertain glances at Harry.

"What are you doing here?!" Hermione said, her own face turning red.

"I thought I might see you off before you return to England. And to tell you that I was planning to visit you as soon as term ends. I'd be taking a gap year before I take my Masters." Shaun transferred glances from Harry to Rose, who both had the same jet-black hair. "Perhaps, I should cancel my plans?"

Hermione kept giving Harry nervous glances, not because she feared he might get angry, but because she feared he might say something embarrassing. But Harry just smiled amusedly.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" said Harry.

Hermione then walked over to the door. "Uhm, Shaun, this is Harry, my good friend. Harry, Shaun."

"Hello," said Harry, genially, his eyes twinkling, and offered his hand to Shaun.

Shaun took Harry's hand, and then looked at Rose, who had lifted both her arms towards Harry so Harry could take her.

The man glanced uncertainly from Harry to Hermione. "Is this your daughter? Is this Rosie?"

"Yes," said Hermione.

An embarrassed silence followed. Hermione seemed determined not to speak with Harry around. Harry then turned to Rose. "C'mon, Rosie, let's see if grandma has finished with that sugar-free cookie she promised us."

"Salvia, not sugar," said Rose, naming the sugar alternative the Grangers used in their food.

As soon as Harry left the room, Hermione turned to her guest. "Shaun, it's already late, what are you doing here?"

"I told you. I thought I might follow you in the UK. I started asking around and researching. I thought I might get a scholarship to pursue my master's there, instead of here."

"Shaun –"

"I know we agreed not to take this relationship seriously, but I really like you Emma." Then he drew a deep breath, his expression becoming sad. "But I think I understand now why you've been so reluctant to commit to this relationship."

"What? Do you mean Harry?" said Hermione, surprised. "Harry's just a friend. Actually, he's more than a friend. He's my brother, in all but blood."

"Your 'brother' is the father of your daughter?" Shaun said, genuinely confused.

"What?! No!"

"Emma, your daughter and Harry both have the same hair. He's obviously the father of your daughter."

"No. It's true that my daughter has her father's hair. But I swear it's not Harry."

"If there's really nothing going on between you and this Harry guy, then tell me, is he coming back to England with you?"

When Hermione failed to utter a reply, Shaun took another deep breath, as if bracing himself.

"I see. Clearly, your relationship with him is deeper than you've let on."

"No, Shaun. That's not the reason. Harry and I, we've both been offered jobs by someone close to us."

"Look Emma, you don't have to explain. I understand."

"No, Shaun – " Hermione tried to speak. She thought Shaun's lower lip was beginning to tremble.

"I think I better leave**," **said Shaun, squaring his shoulders with as much dignity as he could muster. Then he turned and strode down the paved path towards the gate of the property.

Hermione watched Shaun leave. She knew it was a bad idea letting him bring her home when they went out on dates. Even though she never really promised Shaun anything, she felt guilty somehow. She then closed the door, but when she turned around she found Harry standing by the door of the kitchen, an eyebrow raised.

"Don't start," said Hermione. She had no time for jokes this evening. She started to walk back to her unfinished packing.

"You should've just gone back to England a year ago and dated the real thing," Harry said.

Hermione stopped in her tracks and fixed Harry with a stare. "Yes, I could do that. But will you come back with me, though?"

Harry did not reply.

It was past midnight when Hermione was finally finished with her packing. Harry now lay down in the white, L-shaped sofa downstairs, the only furniture remaining in the living room. In the end, Harry gave in to Hermione's parents and started packing into his own backpack most of the Grangers' possessions, including the armchair he was very fond of. The rest he would have to pack later in the morning.

Hermione had set up his makeshift bed on the long sofa, the guest room on the first floor he normally used whenever he was in Australia having been the first to be cleared of its contents. His arm was across his face, but his mind remained alert. He was running their itinerary in his mind, among other worries. The news of their return must have filtered back to England. He didn't want any scenes.

He heard a door opening upstairs and he turned his head to see who it was. Rose was standing on top of the landing, looking down at him, a stuffed bunny in her arms. He lowered his arm, simply watching what she would do. Having seen Harry was still awake, Rose started walking down the stairs and up to him. Harry sat up.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" said Rose.

Before Harry could say anything, Rose had already climbed onto the sofa and lied down, settling herself comfortably on his pillow. Harry had no choice but to arrange the thin sheet around her, then sat back. Rose assured herself that Harry was watching over her, then turned her face to the back of the sofa and promptly fell asleep. Harry continued to watch her. He couldn't sleep anyway. His mind was too awake. A moment later, Hermione's bedroom door opened upstairs. He looked up just as Hermione reached the landing, her anxious face catching immediately the sight of her daughter asleep. Harry looked back down at Rose. The roots of her hair had started to revert back to their original red color. Harry picked up a few strands, rubbing them gently in between his fingers. Then the color of Rose's hair started changing back into Harry's jet-black hair, spreading upwards from the tips to the roots.

~o~

"Hey, Weasley, I've got another one for you!" Savage carelessly threw Ron a folder and, tired of picking up folders and their spilled contents on the floor, Ron waved his wand. The folder sailed to him and landed neatly on his desk. He didn't bother thanking Savage, though. It had been official for quite some time: They hated each other's guts.

In fact, most of the Ministry's employees hated his guts and weren't shy in letting him know that they did. He was both shamed and grateful that his dad's reputation and Kingsley's goodwill – Kingsley had always been decent to him – tended to screen him from outright attacks. It was even worse whenever he stepped out in Wizarding Britain, so that he generally avoided Diagon Alley. Simply put, the entire Wizarding Britain blamed him for Harry and Hermione leaving the country.

He would have quitted his job long ago, but this was his dream. Both his and Harry's dream. And he was determined to see it through. The other alternative was to take a position in Fred and George's store. But where would he get the wherewithal to dream up jokes? He could barely smile these days.

At first he was angry at them both, especially Harry. Didn't Harry understand that he was under the influence of the locket Horcrux? How could Harry not forgive him for a simple lapse of judgment? And how could he humiliate him in front of so many people? But worst of all, how could Harry walk away with Hermione? He almost hexed Harry as they left the Great Hall, but knew that his spell would never reach Harry's back. Too many wands would hit him first. And what if he hit Hermione instead? But he did try to run after them, but Kingsley held him back, saying '_let Harry have time to cool off'_. But they left Britain soon after that and had never been heard from again since then, except from the occasional newspaper reports – mostly unfounded – of sightings of Harry. It had been years, and now he was simply tired, tired of the anger and resentment he felt towards Harry and Hermione both. The truth was, he simply missed them. He missed Hermione most of all.

He opened the folder and saw that it was another case of vandalism at a broch in Orkney with bottles of butterbeer littering the site. Ron scowled as he read the report. This wasn't even a case for an Auror like him. The only reason the Department could justify shoving the case to him was the possibility that Dark Magic had been recently used because apparently Unspeakables detected traces of it at the site. But to Ron, the case was quite similar to a recent incident of vandalism by out-of-school wizards. In any case, he would have to check the records for underage wizards who did not go to Hogwarts in the last ten years or so. Ron stood up and headed towards the lift to go down to the Magical Records section in the lower floors, ignoring the looks and murmurings that followed him.

As usual, the Magical Records section was quite empty. Very few in the Ministry had reason to come down to this area. A simple Departmental note or Floo would suffice and the Magical Records section would promptly send the needed records to the employee requesting them. But Ron could not rely upon such courtesies and had to personally come down here to retrieve the files if he wanted them. Because there were few visitors, the Department secretaries had taken over the area as their own personal domain.

True enough, when Ron arrived at the office, he found three secretaries sitting in one of the low tables. He approached casually, but mentally preparing himself, telling himself to keep his patience. Still, he was forced to announce his presence, even though there was no way the secretaries could not have heard him arriving.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Ron asked, directing his question to the Magical Records librarian, a dehydrated, old spinster who strongly reminded him of the stuffed vulture on Neville's grandmother's hat.

The three witches continued talking as if they hadn't heard him.

"Excuse me, Miss?" said Ron more loudly.

The Records librarian threw him a withering look. "What do you want?"

Ron swallowed the bile rising up his throat. What could he possibly want in this dank, moth-eaten place? Instead, he asked as politely as he could for the records he needed. Still, the Records secretary took her time standing from her seat and retrieving the files. Ron had to stand there having to put up with the reproving glances the other two secretaries were giving him.

Then one of the Secretaries threw him a superior look. "Did you hear the news?" she asked her companion.

"What?" said the other secretary, eager for gossip.

"Harry Potter is coming back!"

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"Are you sure? How did you know? Coz last time I heard he and Hermione Granger are already married and are now living in America."

"No. I'm certain he's not yet married. Kingsley's secretary swears by it. Potter's official papers already came. You know he has to submit his papers. There were a lot of black lines, you know, for-eyes-only stuff. But it clearly stated that he's single."

"But how come Potter's back? Rita Skeeter said that she talked to Potter once and he vowed never to return to England?"

"Ah, well, that's just Rita Skeeter talking."

"I heard he finished his Auror training in the US in just one year."

"That's why Kingsley had to recall him. The Americans wanted him, you know."

"Even though he's British?"

"Even though he's British. I heard they are going to bend their rules so Potter could serve in their country. They're even willing to grant him citizenship even though he's only been in America for a year. That's how good he is."

"What about Granger?"

"Of course, she's coming back with him. They've been together like what, three and a half years now? She submitted her papers as well, though it's curious that while Potter was in America, she was in Australia."

"Do you think they had a falling out?"

"How could that be when they're both coming back? The order was specific for Potter. I heard Granger need not come back if she doesn't want to."

"It's clear then. They're still together. Aren't they perfect together?"

"Yeah. I'm so jealous." She leaned back. "Wow. Harry Potter back in England."

"I know, right?"

~o~

When Bill arrived home that afternoon, he found his wife and daughter in the kitchen. He had barely time to give them a kiss in greeting, before Fleur gave him a significant look. These days, that look could only mean Ron.

"Where is he?" said Bill.

Fleur gestured in the direction of the beach.

Bill removed his coat, the weather permitting it, and headed out towards the back of the house. He found Ron seated on the beach, arms resting on his knees, throwing pebbles into the ocean. Bill sat down beside his brother.

"They're coming back."

"When?" said Bill.

Ron shrugged. "Any day now." He turned to Bill. "Did you know?"

"I would have. If there's movement in his account, perhaps it would show. But you know Gringotts banned me from checking Harry's account. Only the head of the bank could look into his account and only if Harry himself allows it."

Ron dejectedly threw another pebble, but nearer his feet. "There are talks, you know. That they're together now."

"That's not what I heard," said Bill. "I heard Harry was dating an American Healer trainee not too long ago."

"You think that's true?" asked Ron hopefully.

"Well, I sure didn't hear it from Rita Skeeter, but from a far more reliable acquaintance of mine." He turned to Ron. "How do you feel?"

"I'm afraid. But I don't know, I think I'm also looking forward to it. Mostly I just want to see Hermione's face."

"It's official, then. You're still in love with her?"

"Find me a better witch than Hermione, then perhaps I could forget her."

"Sorry, bro, I'm already married to her," said Bill, tapping Ron on the shoulder and standing up. He started to walk back to the house.

"I said better!" cried Ron after him. But Bill was smiling, glad to lighten his brother's mood a bit.


	3. Chapter 3

UNFORGIVEN

Chapter Three

"You're not serious, Proudfoot!"

"But Potter trained for only a year! And now you're telling us he's been given a position over our heads?!"

"Look, the order came directly from the Prime Minister's Office," said Proudfoot, current Head of Auror. "There's nothing I can do."

More voices rose against this and Proudfoot had a hard time pacifying the Aurors inside the Conference Room in the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Just then, the door opened and Kingsley walked in.

"Minister!"

Kingsley walked over to the front of the room. Proudfoot vacated his seat at the head of the conference table, but Kingsley waved a hand to indicate that it was alright and remained standing in front.

"I heard you're arguing the toss that I appointed Potter as Senior Auror," he said.

"With all due respect Prime Minister," said one Auror. "we went through the Ministry's intense training. Some of us have been waiting for years to be promoted. We understand that Potter saved England, but don't you think this appointment is quite unfair?"

"If we had known that the American Auror Academy has a fast-track program, then we would have jumped over the pond and not bothered with the Auror training here," said another.

Kingsley lifted a hand to silence the room. "The Americans did not give Potter any special treatment nor have I. When he joined their program, it soon became apparent that Harry knew more magic than all of their personnel combined. He'd even bested the Americans' best Aurors in a training exercise. That's why Potter finished their program early. He had more to teach them than they can teach him. Six months into the program, the Americans had already offered Potter a Senior Position in their Auror Department. That's why I sent for him. Yes, me. I ordered him recalled to active duty."

"Still doesn't justify his appointment!" said Savage. "How do we know that the American training program is even comparable to ours? Maybe they threw Potter a doss."

"Look, if you're concerned that Potter is not qualified enough then why don't we put it to a test?" said Kingsley, starting to lose his temper. It took him a while to persuade Harry to come back. "All of you against him, fighting three to one. Or even all of you at the same time."

The Aurors threw each other uncertain looks. Although they didn't like the situation one bit, no one was willing to take their chances against Potter, who defeated the Darkest Wizard of all time with a simple _Expelliarmus_ spell.*

"The truth is, Potter didn't need or even want this appointment. He was planning to get further training as a Mahōtsukai in Japan," added Kingsley. "And mind, he already had some, but not formally. So, you see, Potter is more capable than anyone in this room, and that includes me. I've read the Americans' assessment of Harry's abilities, and they themselves admitted that they barely scratched the surface. That Harry was holding himself back. It is precisely for that reason that the Americans wanted to recruit him. They were even willing to change their own laws just to accommodate Harry in their roster." Kingsley swept the room with his intense glare, daring anyone to speak. When no one did, he turned to leave but then he paused and turned back to the room. "If I hear any more grumblings from any of you whether Potter is qualified or not, I will order a no-holds-barred fight between the complainant or complainants and Potter. We'll see exactly how you'd fare against him."

~o~

"Great game, Ginny!"

"Thanks! You, too!" Ginny cried out. She'd only taken a quick shower, tied her still damp hair in a loose ponytail, and was now quickly cramming her stuff willy-nilly into her gym bag. She didn't care. They were all going into the wash anyway – including the gym bag. She had promised Tonks that she'd be there for Teddy's birthday. She looked at the time and was glad that Gwenog Jones did not insist on practicing the Blitzen Ballet until the Chasers perfected the technique.

Then Ginny slammed the door to her locker, and said goodbye to the rest of her teammates. Hopefully, there would be no reporters outside. The Harpies had been steadily increasing security lately while Bill and Percy had added protections of their own. Perhaps the spells would keep for longer this time.

But when she stepped out of the dug-out she got the biggest shock of her life. Hermione stood leaning back against the corridor wall, hugging herself protectively. She was obviously waiting for Ginny. No one seemed to notice her though, except for her. An _Emé_ _ī__gnōrāre _spell that exempted her, then. But Ginny acted as if the spell affected her too. She quickly walked past Hermione, acting as if she couldn't see her former friend.

"Ginny!"

Ginny strode on, cursing her short legs, cursing the security measures they had to put in place so she couldn't Apparate immediately.

"Ginny, please!"

Hermione now was running pell-mell after Ginny, her shoes making loud clattering sounds against the corridor's cement floor. She finally reached Ginny, grabbing her by the shoulders. Ginny wheeled around, her wand out in an instant, pointed at Hermione. She didn't much like being touched.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?!" Ginny said, breathing hard from anger. "Who told you that you could come here?!"

"Ginny, please, I just want to talk to you!" Hermione looked around. They were alone in that part of the corridor, but she cast privacy spells around them anyway. Then she turned back to Ginny. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry for what?!" cried Ginny angrily. "For leaving us behind? For breaking Ron's heart?" There was a pause. "For breaking mine?!"

"Ginny – "

"What excuse did you dream up now that you can show your face to me like this? You knew how I felt about him."

"Ginny, please. I can't tell you everything, not now. But please know that I didn't set out to hurt you. I would never do that to you."

Ginny shook her head. "You broke my heart that day, not just Ron's. I will never forgive you," she said. She then turned and walked away. This time, Hermione knew Ginny won't let her hold her back.

~o~

A/N: I know that Harry mentioned the Elder wand while confronting Voldemort, but I'd prefer the rest of the Wizarding world continue to be unaware of the Deathly Hallows. ;D

Mahōtsukai – sorcerer, I meant Harry would formally learn Japanese magic.


	4. Chapter 4

UNFORGIVEN

Chapter 04

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned and copyrighted by JK Rowling.

A/N: ah a lot of questions. Some will be answered here, others I won't be able to until later in the story. But I don't think I misused the word "recall". But do congratulate yourselves those of you who've noticed coz i tend to cheat. in ch 5 of my other fanfic, menat, there's an ellipsis i removed and a paragraph that should've been broken in 2 but i didn't. and if u've read it, u know why. ;D

* * *

"What have you got in there, Tonks? A kennel?"

Harry gaped open-mouthed at Tonks's swollen belly. He knew she was carrying quadruplets, but he didn't expect her to be as big as the Knight Bus. Tonks tried to look offended, but ended up beaming at him instead. They were standing in the kitchen of the Lupins' home, a five bedroom period country house in the Eden Valley with gardens and amenity woodland at the back accessible to no one but Remus. It also had an apartment garage separate from the main house where Andromeda lived.

"Harry!" Tonks said, hugging him, unmindful of the ashes on his shoulders. He was one of the few allowed Floo access into the Lupins' home.

Harry had never seen Tonks look so happy. She was positively glowing, her hair a tear-inducing sunburst yellow. He must admit the hug was a bit awkward. He was afraid he might hurt her – she could barely walk.

"We couldn't believe it when Kingsley told us that you'll be coming back. And now you're finally here!" she said, tugging him towards the back of the house. "And just in time! It's Teddy's birthday!"

"I know. I remembered," said Harry. "Where is he anyway?" Harry said, looking around. The house was abuzz with activity. Several guests had already arrived and a few children were screaming and running all over the place.

"Still asleep," said Tonks. "I told him that if he didn't take his afternoon nap, I would cancel his party. Kreacher's looking after him."

"I hope you're not overworking my house-elf," said Harry in jest.

"He'll be much happier now that you two are living in the same country," said Tonks, glancing back at him. "I suppose he's going back to live with you at Grimmauld now?"

"No, it's okay. Looks like you're going to need all the help you can get once those babies come out," he said. Tonks beamed up at him again, hugging his arm close to her.

She led him through the morning room, and out into the conservatory, where Remus had taken refuge from the kids' noises, reading a magazine. With its floor to ceiling glass sliding doors, the room had a clear view of the back garden where Teddy's party would be held. Harry could see Andromeda over at the buffet table, supervising the food.

"Harry!" Remus stood up as soon as Harry and Tonks walked into the room. The two men shook hands and then hugged each other. Whereas before the grey hairs and fine lines on Remus's face made him look prematurely old, now they gave him a certain gravitas. Harry was extremely pleased, to finally see his dad's old friend – _his_ friend – happy and content.

Tonks started to sit down into the wicker sofa, and Remus rushed to help his wife, with Harry assisting.

Tonks was laughing. "You two make me feel like such an invalid," she complained.

"I assure you it's for the chair's benefit," joked Harry while Remus merely tussled her hair affectionately.

Remus then gestured for Harry to take a seat before sitting back down himself. There was a pitcher of fresh orange juice on the center table. Tonks poured Harry a glass and offered it to him.

"So the prodigal son has finally returned," said Remus, watching Harry drink his juice. "I hope it's permanent?" he asked, cocking Harry an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged, not sure himself what his eventual plans would be.

"Well, he has no choice," said Tonks confidently. "I heard Kingsley basically issued Harry a direct order. 'Come home, soldier!'" she said, affecting a rough manner.

Harry smiled. Tonks's bubbliness was spilling over. He glanced around at the room. Like the rest of the house, the conservatory was thoughtfully decorated with light comfortable rattan furniture set to take advantage of the outside views. "You've got a nice place here," he said, loving the openness of the house and the surrounding landscape.

"Thanks to you," said Remus. "If it weren't for you commissioning that book, I wouldn't have been able to afford this place." Though Kingsley had given him a job as liaison officer at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures soon after the war, the expensive cost of the Wolfsbane Potion made a huge dent at his monthly salary. Then just a year before, Harry had asked Remus to write the story of the Marauders and Sirius. Since the idea for the book had long been percolating in his mind, Remus finished writing it in no time flat. Within six months after Harry had approached him, the book was launched. It became an instant worldwide bestseller and was now in its fourth printing. It basically launched Remus's writing career.

"I wanted your story to be told. I want Sirius's story to be told," said Harry simply.

"My wife loves you very much now," said Remus.

Harry glanced at Tonks, an eyebrow cocked. "I hope not too much. I find the men Tonks love tend to look a little bit worse for the wear."

Tonks tried to make a face at Harry and failing anew. It seemed there was nothing he could say that could ruin her mood. Just then, they heard excited screaming coming from outside. They all turned their heads towards the source of the commotion.

Tonks's face brightened even more. "That would be Ginny! I'd better go and meet her before the kids clobber her." She struggled to get up. Remus was at her side at once, helping her.

"Ginny who?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Weasley! Who else? How many Ginnies do you know?" Tonks said, aggrieved that no one should know who Ginny was instantly. She would have the same reaction if someone said 'Potter who?'

"Why are they all screaming?" Harry asked, genuinely surprised.

"She's famous now," said Remus mildly. "She's the Holyhead Harpies' star Chaser."

"Oh," said Harry. He hadn't been following a lot of news from England, wouldn't even read a newspaper or magazine. He didn't even like seeing the twins' advertisements, which they even posted in the American wizarding papers. These things tended to remind him of more unpleasant memories.

"Aren't you going to say hello?" Tonks demanded. She knew Harry had a falling out with Ron. But whatever his problem with his former bestmate was, Tonks didn't believe that Harry should take it out on the rest of the family.

"I think some other time," said Harry. And just like that the levity of earlier had gone. Harry had withdrawn back into his shell. He and Ginny weren't really that close anyway. They weren't even friends, come to think of it. They barely talked to each other back in Hogwarts or even at the Burrow. He vaguely remembered her finally relaxing enough to speak when he was around, but by that time he had too many things to think about – or try not to think about – , too busy preparing himself for his eventual confrontation with Voldemort, for him to notice everything that was going on around him. In any case, he didn't know her that well. He wasn't sure if she would start asking questions. Some people just don't have boundaries. Talking to her now might just lead to one awkward conversation. He didn't want to mar his first day back in England.

"Harry – " began Tonks, but Remus caught her eye and shook his head.

Harry noticed but didn't say a word. He placed his now empty glass on the table and stood up as well.

"I think I'll head off now. Will you please give Teddy my gift?" he said, pulling out from inside his robes a kiddie version of the Blue Streak Magnanimous, the fastest professional Quidditch broomstick around. It was supposed to be named after him, although Harry could not fathom how anybody could come up with such a ridiculous name or that such appellation could be ascribable to him. But he must say, that design- and performance-wise, it was the best broomstick he'd ever held in his hands, better than even his Firebolt. He particularly loved the way the blue color had been worked into the broom handle, and yet somehow retained its original brown color, showing its beautiful wood grain. He was glad to see too that with plenty of space in the Lupins' place and few Muggles around, Teddy would have a good use of his gift. He then handed the broomstick over to Lupin. "I'll be back tomorrow," he said. He shook Remus's hand again, and gave Tonks a kiss on the cheek. Then he walked over to the glass sliding doors of the conservatory without a backward glance and, as soon as he stepped a foot through the threshold, promptly disappeared.

Harry Apparated in a Muggle park near the Grangers' new house but realized at once that it was the last place he wanted to be in at the moment.

The Grangers had moved into a three storey terraced house in Oxfordshire – four storey, if you count the basement. They were lucky to find the house which the previous owner already had converted into rental flats. It was one of Harry's stipulations for his return to England: that the Ministry facilitated the Grangers getting a house. After all, he felt largely responsible for them leaving the UK. Hermione's parents would be occupying the two bedroom flat on the ground floor that opened onto a back garden, while Hermione would live temporarily in the loft apartment until she found a place of her own.

With Hermione being just as OC with house decorations – everything should be in its proper place arranged just so – as with her studies, Harry didn't particularly relish the thought of helping her arrange books and furniture. So he decided instead to head to the Ministry to report for work. He wasn't expected until the next Monday but he figured he might use the time anyway. But when he presented himself to Proudfoot, the current head of the Auror Department, the man was at a loss as to how to deal with him. Proudfoot had no idea what responsibilities or case to assign to the famous Auror. And he didn't think assigning him the Ginny Weasley case – the only "hot" item in their plate right now – would be a good idea, given Harry's history with Ron Weasley.

Harry watched as Padfoot pitifully rummaged through his files, trying to find a case that would match the famous Auror's abilities and status. In the end, he looked back up at Harry, but had to clear his throat several times before he could speak. He'd read parts of Harry's file. He couldn't say that he wasn't the least bit intimidated, if not awed.

"Uhm, Mr. Potter, have you been to see the Minister?" he finally asked. When Harry shook his head, he looked relieved. "Ah well, then," he said, becoming sprightlier, shuffling the papers in his hand, "why don't you go head on up to his office, and ask the Minister what your current duties are?" And then, since he thought he ought to say something useful, Proudfoot told Harry the office that he would be using.

So Harry did as he was told, boarding the lift again up to Kingsley's office – only to meet with a bigger disappointment.

"You have got to be kidding me," said Harry. "You ordered me back to England for this?" He was holding a wizard gossip magazine with Ginny Weasley, her face in profile, her shoulders bare, on the cover. It looked like a stolen shot. Its headlines screamed it had more pictures of her inside in only her undies. The magazine was still covered in a transparent wrap. Harry didn't know why, but he was holding it by the tip of its edge as if it was an explosive thing about to blow.

"I'm sorry I can't dig up a Dark Wizard bent on world domination for you to feel justified coming back to serve your own country," said Kingsley, annoyed.

"But Kingsley – "

"It's not as simple a matter as you might think," said Kingsley. "The pictures inside should not have been. There was no way the photographs could have been taken, given the security at the site."

Harry frowned and gave the cover another look. He still hadn't opened the magazine to look inside. "Why is it magically sealed?"

"It's the only remaining copy," said Kingsley. "As soon as the things were sent out, they started disappearing, the press used to print the magazines melted, and all the materials used in that edition disappeared as well. Which is another thing that shouldn't have happened."

Harry whistled. "A mass Vanishing Charm? That's quite difficult to pull off. Not to mention illegal," said Harry. "Let me guess, Bill Weasley?"

Kingsley shrugged. "Bill, Percy, the twins – take your pick. Miss Weasley has a lot of brothers."

"But what has it got to do with me?" cried Harry in frustration, unable to keep the whining tone in his voice.

"I told you, the matter is not as simple as it looks," said Kingsley impatiently. "What you don't understand is that Ms. Weasley has become a big commodity in Wizarding Britain. Everyone is out to get a piece of her, using whatever means they think is necessary. Consequently, the violations against her privacy have been increasing, and that isn't something her brothers would let easily pass, not even Miss Weasley herself. And I think they're starting to fight back, though no one can find proof of it."

"When you say 'fight back', what exactly do you mean?"

"Oh just this and that. Give it a month or so and you'll see what I mean. The problem is, someone or some people are also retaliating back."

At Harry's questioning look, Kingsley elaborated. "In the recent Harpies game, the Aurors I sent to check security at the venue detected magic under the Quidditch pitch, just an hour before the game started. It was a magic arresting spell. If it hadn't been discovered, all the players would have plummeted to the ground during the game. There's no other conclusion but that Miss Weasley had been the target."

"A magic arresting spell? That's even more illegal," said Harry, frowning. "Cast during a Quidditch game, that's tantamount to attempted murder. Do you have any suspects?"

"Absolutely none," said Kingsley. "And that's where you come in."

"Kingsley - " Harry tried to object.

"I know, Harry, you don't have to say anything. But who else could I give the job to?"

"But Kingsley, this is hardly a job for an Auror."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "I hardly think you're one to put such fine distinctions."

Harry was appropriately shamed. But still...

"What about Williamson? Or Savage?" he insisted. He didn't bother mentioning Ron. For all he knew, Ron was under investigation himself. Besides, there was nothing that could possibly induce him to mention Ron's name aloud.

"You think I didn't send any Aurors to investigate the matter? I sent Williamson."

"And?"

"He came back Obliviated and Confunded."

Harry sighed. On top of everything, he'd have to investigate who assaulted an Auror as well, which carried a stiff penalty. And if it turned out that a Weasley did it? Would he be able to turn him - or _her_ - over, knowing it was a sure stint in Azkaban? Was he capable of breaking Molly's heart that way? After everything they had done for him?

"You have to do this Potter. There's no one else. And all this tit for tat hostilities between the press and Miss Weasley's camp are starting to escalate. I feel like I'm sitting on a volcano about to blow up soon."

"I don't know, Kingsley," said Harry, still doubtful. The last thing he wanted was to get entangled with the Weasleys and here Kingsley was, throwing him directly into their path.

But Kingsley was starting to lose his patience. "Look Potter, you have to take the case. If you don't, I'll send you to guard detail at the Malfoy Manor." Although the Malfoys escaped a prison sentence, the backlash from the Wizarding public was such that the Malfoys had been forced to stay in their house, twenty-four hours of the day, living in virtual house arrest. The Ministry kept them under tight security watch – but more for their safety than the other way around. Kingsley paused, as an idea occurred to him. "You'll have a new title," he said, starting to laugh. He air-outlined an imaginary sign with his hand: "The Great Harry Potter: Security Guard Extraordinaire."

Harry stared at Kingsley furiously, who was laughing wheezily he nearly choked on his own saliva.


End file.
